


Mortar & Pestle

by osunism



Series: Ice Shielded By Flame [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 04:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osunism/pseuds/osunism
Summary: "Everyone chose you. Even the Inquisitor."





	

Calpernia does not think about it when Hadiza comes to her in the night, bent over a heavy tome, squinting at illuminated text detailing spells of a bygone era. The greatest minds of the Imperium have yet to unravel them, but Calpernia is ambitious. She vows in her heart of hearts that she will be the first.

The scent of cloves heralds Hadiza’s arrival. It is pungent and cloying, and Calpernia makes a small snort without looking up.

“Been up all night in the alchemy lab, again?” She asks, but the usual bite is dulled this evening. Hadiza smiles. She is freshly bathed, the rope of her braid unbound, her hair falling in ink-dark torrents over her shoulders. Calpernia doesn’t glance up, but she is focused now on both her studies and Hadiza, whose bare feet barely make a sound as she closes the distance between them.

Calpernia welcomes the touch of her fingertips, and the clean scent of the woman at her back. She smiles as Hadiza leans over, her hair spilling over both of them. Calpernia’s hair is the color of fresh wheat, a stark contrast against Hadiza, who is night-spun and lovely. All the things Calpernia thinks she herself can never be.

Hadiza’s lips are soft, full, pressed against Calpernia’s cheek.

“As you have been here with your nose in all of my associate’s books, hm?” Her voice spills over the senses like soft water, and Calpernia swallows against the rising tide of heat in her blood.

“If I am to lead Tevinter in liberation, then I cannot do so without first learning about the past.” Calpernia says shortly. Hadiza’s gaze flickers over a few choice words in the book.

“But what do you hope to gain from this volume?” She asks, “No one’s been able to figure out what Herod was referring to. Some of the components of these spells have never existed in our collective living memory.”

Calpernia narrows her eyes.

“Perhaps the elves might know. That Solas of yours seemed quite arrogant in his knowledge of the arcane.” She mutters, “A pity he never shared anything with you.”

Hadiza snorts.

“Yes. Pity.” She mutters, “Come to bed. It’s late, and the books aren’t going anywhere.”

Calpernia hesitates.

For a moment, there is only quiet, and the flicker of candelight. Hadiza’s warmth is its own creature, coiling around her. It feels at once familiar and alien to Calpernia. She knows, deep down, that this warmth belongs–will always belong–to someone else. Whatever else there is for it, Calpernia feels it chafe at her pride.

Hadiza’s heart is half hers, if even that.

“Hadiza.” Her name tickles the tip of her tongue, the roof of her mouth sticky with it. Hadiza makes a murmuring noise, shutting her eyes. Calpernia reaches up with one slender hand, laces their fingers together.

And then she pries Hadiza from her primly.

“I’ve work to do.” She says, trying not to sound bitter, trying not to let her envy of a dead man’s memory color her voice.

_Everyone chose you. Corypheus. The men. Even the Inquisitor._

Hadiza blinks, surprised.

“Very well,” she says, clearly stung, “I suppose there’s time enough for dalliance when you’ve gorged yourself on the mysteries of ancient magics.” She lifts her chin a little, her pride returning to shield her. Calpernia ignores the twinge in her heart. She returns to her book, but her mind’s focus is halved, following the scent of crushed elfroot and broken cloves; the sound of feather-light footsteps,; the whisper of silk against skin so soft Calpernia is tempted to close the book and follow.

But she sets her jaw, finds the place in the tome where she left off.

_Everyone chose you. Even the Inquisitor._

Pride is her shield too.


End file.
